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Avoid the mirror mostly these days. Look miserable mostly. Problem at the moment is that I can't plaster on the fake smile needed to meaningfully contribute to the media anymore. I can't pretend that things are ok here, that something as ephemeral and essential as a record, isn't connected with everything else, the shitmare of life under this govt., I can't write about music unless it's in terms of how it offers furious escape, or horrified reflection, unless the music or the writing about it, lets something out, taps the bile, releases things a little because there's a determination, whether in attack or retreat, to its intent. Music that could only be made now is all that interests me. That eliminates alot. In the case of rock, it eliminates all that isn't noisy. All I listen guitarwise is metal, doom, sludge, female punk, angry fukkers y'know? Writing about anything else while we're being torn apart on all fronts just seems wrong somehow, seem…

Plumbing The Depths For Spring - Three Bolts From The Black T'other night, perhaps in a paroxysm of the usual loathing looking at the NME, I compiled on FB & Twitter a long list of videos that for me summed up the year 1994. 20 years since n all that. Someone popped up saying 'You had a great 94!'. I could only respond honestly (praps why I should stay off FB etc) by saying 'no, it was a fucking horrible year, just like every year before and since. Music never helps, ever'. At first I was surprised by my sudden moodiness, but looking back and taking stock, music genuinely has never really helped in any way and if I was stupid enough to ever think it did I was indulging the worst most self-piteous bit of myself. I would've been better off, my whole life, NOT conning myself with its lies. The 'comfort' music offered was nothing but harmful, for it kept me alive, when clearly better choices could and should have been made along time ago, before it was …